The politically or socially disaffected, the intellectually frustrated, the self-described weird, the retro, the throwback, the visionary, the artist, the writer, the talented hack and the scribe: All of these adjectives describe the attendees and exhibitors of the Twin Cities ZineFest 2009,a two-day, “alternative”-art, underground festival held this July 11th and 12th in the Stevens Square Center for the Arts an arguably, hole-in-the-wall location, next door to, what appeared to be to this author, a combination liquor/convenience store.
Ascending the stairs, the stale smell of books, paper, dust and people floated down. I entered, looking for an artist friend of mine, Sean Lynch , who was there representing 2dCloud, a comic design illustration studio located on University Avenue. The website for the Zinefest describes itself as “the area’s premiere DIY craft, culture and self-publishing event...feature[ing] an art show, live music, craft demonstrations, guest speakers and panel discussions. Most importantly, Zinefest plays host to some of the Midwest’s best self-made talent.”
And “self-made talent,” it was. I walked the small area taking in the entire tables with the zines and their authors on display. The entire room was an art piece, not just the products, if you want to get all “Warholesque” about it. I looked at everything, from zines addressing the perceived rantings and ravings of Rep. Michele Bachmann to a zine that dealt primarily with how to eat raw foods and live a lifestyle based around such consumption. There were zines produced by children—colorful, hand drawn efforts addressing all manner of subjects—there were zines that focused exclusively on poetry and disaffected beat rhythms. There were zines that were collections of recipes for “Southern Home Cookin’” and zines that were collections of fake pamphlets. There were zines that were comic art compendiums and zines that were feminist, music or socially focused. If you wanted a zine, there was a good chance that it was there.
All of the zines were either free or of low-cost (no raging capitalists here!) which reflected the basic ideas behind Zinefest: freedom to do as one will and to express and almost Thoreau-like antipathy to the world, while still being in it at the same time. One of the best items for sale alongside the zines of web comic artist and mini-comic publisher Ryan Dow, was a collection of pins with witty sayings on them and sentiments form his various works, and, this reviewer suspects, his real life experiences: “I’m all about compassion you jackass.”
All of the zines featured an array of art styles, none of which could be pigeonholed into the area, ubiquitously categorized as “Fine Art.” The entire collection of exhibitors defied and yet reaffirmed the sentiment, best expressed through the entire 20th Century of the Dadaists: Art is what we make of it. From collections of what appeared to be random squiggles, all the way to full-on, color photographs, the zines at Zinefest seemed to explode with an intensity and vibrancy that define the characteristics of do-it-yourself.
And ultimately, that is the point. Many of these artists, whether they know it or not (and I suspect that many of the ones I spoke to do) are the direct spiritual, artistic and philosophical descendants of Robert Crumb. Although many artists have gone onto mainstream success behind the philosophy and art shown at this year’s Zinefest, the base remains the same: Artists making art and spreading messages, not for the mass produced, corporate/government run public, but for themselves and their interests.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Review of Bemidji State University Visual Arts Department 2008 Scholarship Show by Jesan Sorrells
Group visual art exhibits usually consist of substandard dreck apathetically created by complacent artists, and the Bemidji State University Visual Arts Department 2008 Scholarship Show in the on-campus Talley Gallery is no exception. In years past, the show has attempted to recognize the efforts and achievements of visual arts majors in a group setting: One or two works, focusing around either no topic, or a vaguely articulated one. This year’s topic—and overall show title—falls into the “vaguely articulated” category, Climate Change, the most recent ephemeral nonsense to hit the ears of the academic public. For the majority of these artists, the term has become a rallying cry to the political and the mundane.
The twenty-five works—ranging in medium, from painted plastic, freestanding sculpture to carefully crafted prints— reflect the effort of the juniors and seniors to interpret the show title and redefine it to fit their own artistic vision. Regardless of what one thinks of the science behind former Vice-President Al Gore’s strident calls to modify global environmental policy, the term “climate change,” has motivated this generation of artists, similar to Mutually Assured Destruction during the Cold War, or the way the events of September 11. Unfortunately, all of the pregnant promise fails to crown, much less be birthed. The works resonate as timid, echo chamber repeating of the same tired clichés regarding people, places and decisions, lacking real depth or formal complexity.
However, the work of three artists shames the rest. Lars Voltz’s Reds Assault on the Blues reconciles “the inflated figure of Jackson Pollock,” with something resembling artistic reality. Mimicry of Abstract Expressionism’s inflated style is on display as red and blue swathes of paint cut across a speckled orange background, while drips of blue and sworls of orange, dance across the 36x24 support. The diptych Owl Moon/The Cultivation of Bonsai is a surrealistic attempt by LauraLee Simons to illustrate an internal struggle while skittering the talking point cliché of “climate change.” Owl Moon is especially haunting as it shows through burnt umber and grey the flight of the human heart, torn from a beating body. The Cultivation of Bonsai illustrates through reds and oranges, the pride and joy of life that would make Georgia O’Keefe proud. Finally, Jon Seykora’s two large scale prints—one a screen print, the other a 3D rendered print—recall both the goofy pleasure of comics and illustration and the serious industrial influence of Robert Rauschenberg or Andy Warhol. Obsolete and No Vacancy pull the viewer in with fish out of water, streaks of blue lay across industrial black illustrations of cars, cranes and tire piles, and feathers of delicate red, a reminder that humor and art go hand in hand.
The remaining twenty two works crowd the Talley Gallery space as an unintentional visual representation of global overpopulation. A clear plastic female figure suspended from the ceiling is juxtaposed with blue plastic female figure on the floor; a goldfish circles within her, as trapped and perplexed as the one in Seykora’s print. Hastily rendered prints and drawings crowd the moveable walls, hurriedly moving the viewer from work to work, not allowing a moment’s breathe. Perhaps that is the point. After all, if enough CO2 gets in the atmosphere, no one will be able to breathe. The denouement visible from the gallery entrance is a tree sculpted from wood and mounted to the gallery wall. It is dead and desiccated; no leaves hang from the construction; like the show, it sucks all of the air from the room, leaving the viewer with a vague sense of something.
The power of the visual arts lies in its ability to confront audiences without words, performances, tricks or intermediaries. Artists who accept this and acknowledge it create pieces that matter. The arguments and debates around climate change are challenging. Ill conceived, knee jerk reactions or regurgitated swill about “corporate control,” or “imperialist tendencies,” are banal and unchallenging, as boring as the art that springs from them. Polarizing and uniting, climate change is so broad and encompassing, it could have been addressed in numerous creative ways. Instead, the Bemidji State University Visual Arts Department 2008 Scholarship Show illustrates an unfortunate lack of creative vision in this crop of students. However, harsh judgment may be unwarranted, after all; perhaps, this is the sort of “climate change” scholarship awards were designed to reward.
The twenty-five works—ranging in medium, from painted plastic, freestanding sculpture to carefully crafted prints— reflect the effort of the juniors and seniors to interpret the show title and redefine it to fit their own artistic vision. Regardless of what one thinks of the science behind former Vice-President Al Gore’s strident calls to modify global environmental policy, the term “climate change,” has motivated this generation of artists, similar to Mutually Assured Destruction during the Cold War, or the way the events of September 11. Unfortunately, all of the pregnant promise fails to crown, much less be birthed. The works resonate as timid, echo chamber repeating of the same tired clichés regarding people, places and decisions, lacking real depth or formal complexity.
However, the work of three artists shames the rest. Lars Voltz’s Reds Assault on the Blues reconciles “the inflated figure of Jackson Pollock,” with something resembling artistic reality. Mimicry of Abstract Expressionism’s inflated style is on display as red and blue swathes of paint cut across a speckled orange background, while drips of blue and sworls of orange, dance across the 36x24 support. The diptych Owl Moon/The Cultivation of Bonsai is a surrealistic attempt by LauraLee Simons to illustrate an internal struggle while skittering the talking point cliché of “climate change.” Owl Moon is especially haunting as it shows through burnt umber and grey the flight of the human heart, torn from a beating body. The Cultivation of Bonsai illustrates through reds and oranges, the pride and joy of life that would make Georgia O’Keefe proud. Finally, Jon Seykora’s two large scale prints—one a screen print, the other a 3D rendered print—recall both the goofy pleasure of comics and illustration and the serious industrial influence of Robert Rauschenberg or Andy Warhol. Obsolete and No Vacancy pull the viewer in with fish out of water, streaks of blue lay across industrial black illustrations of cars, cranes and tire piles, and feathers of delicate red, a reminder that humor and art go hand in hand.
The remaining twenty two works crowd the Talley Gallery space as an unintentional visual representation of global overpopulation. A clear plastic female figure suspended from the ceiling is juxtaposed with blue plastic female figure on the floor; a goldfish circles within her, as trapped and perplexed as the one in Seykora’s print. Hastily rendered prints and drawings crowd the moveable walls, hurriedly moving the viewer from work to work, not allowing a moment’s breathe. Perhaps that is the point. After all, if enough CO2 gets in the atmosphere, no one will be able to breathe. The denouement visible from the gallery entrance is a tree sculpted from wood and mounted to the gallery wall. It is dead and desiccated; no leaves hang from the construction; like the show, it sucks all of the air from the room, leaving the viewer with a vague sense of something.
The power of the visual arts lies in its ability to confront audiences without words, performances, tricks or intermediaries. Artists who accept this and acknowledge it create pieces that matter. The arguments and debates around climate change are challenging. Ill conceived, knee jerk reactions or regurgitated swill about “corporate control,” or “imperialist tendencies,” are banal and unchallenging, as boring as the art that springs from them. Polarizing and uniting, climate change is so broad and encompassing, it could have been addressed in numerous creative ways. Instead, the Bemidji State University Visual Arts Department 2008 Scholarship Show illustrates an unfortunate lack of creative vision in this crop of students. However, harsh judgment may be unwarranted, after all; perhaps, this is the sort of “climate change” scholarship awards were designed to reward.
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